Just say Okay
by Auphora66
Summary: ON HIATUS! Zoë suffers from philemaphobia -the fear of kissing. How will Seth be able to handle his imprint’s condition? Will he even be able to have a relationship with her? Will she let him? Imprint story. Seth/OC


**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Twilight series, Stephenie Meyer does. **

**Summary****: Zoë suffers from philemaphobia -the fear of kissing. How will Seth be able to handle his imprint's condition? Will he even be able to have a relationship with her? Will she let him?**

**-Zoë- (pronounced zoh-ii)**

"What is your _deal_, Zoë?" he asked angrily, hurt.

I looked at the ground, ashamed. "I'm sorry." I said, barely above a whisper. The guilt was using my throat as a scratching post.

"Why do you keep pushing me away whenever I try to kiss you?"

"I don't like being kissed." I lied, looking up to see his reaction. I was hoping for amusement.

Andrew's jaw tightened. His criminal lips, pierced with a metal bar, pursed into a thin line. His eyes narrowed. "Are you _kidding _me?"

I shook my head, lying once more. "No, I'm not kidding."

"I can't believe this," he muttered, running a frustrated hand through his mahogany hair.

"I'm sorry." I repeated, guilt leeching out my volume. God, I hated this. I averted my eyes to the floor. "It's not that I don't want to kiss you, it's just that I don't want to kiss anyone." I said hurriedly, not wanting to hurt him further. "Even my own parents aren't allowed to kiss me."

"I don't think I can handle this." Andrew said, ignoring my apology and my honest explanation.

I wasn't surprised. A part of me yearned for the feeling of surprise; I didn't like to think that I had already accepted this outcome. This fate. My lack of surprise didn't stop the fear or the hurt that had carved its way into my chest. I was going to be alone for the rest of my life.

Andrew had been my hopes and dreams; he was supposed to be different. He was supposed to have loved me through thick and thin, no matter what. I had thought he was my cure. The cure to my fear of kissing. My phobia. Philemaphobia.

"Look, I'm _sorry_ that I'm breaking up with you," Andrew said. "I truly am, but I just don't see how this relationship is going to work if you keep pushing me away."

My throat constricted and my sinuses clenched. The air in my lungs seemed to have vanished along with everything else, turning me into an empty shell. With a great deal of difficulty, I swallowed and nodded.

"I understand." I said quietly, proud that my voice didn't crack.

"I'll see you at school, I guess." Andrews said, his black boots stepping out of my field of vision.

I couldn't speak. His boots echoed off the wooden floor of the hallway, and then quieted as the distance between us grew. Not once did I hear them pause. I kinda hated myself, for hoping that they would.

My vision blurred, and the tears were warm as they left my eyes. A sob clogged my throat and I allowed a pathetic cough to pass through my lips so I could breathe. I wrapped my arms around myself to help contain the breakdown episode, but the imitation of comfort did nothing to help.

Soon enough, I was on the floor of my bedroom doorway, sobbing my broken heart out. Pitiful coughs and whimpers echoed in the hall, chasing after Andrew's long gone boots.

-

It was only when the disgust of using my sleeve as a Kleenex caught up with me that I made myself stand. My legs felt like jell-o but I forced them to carry me back into my room anyway. After using a fourth of the tissues available, I dragged myself into the shower, despite my preference of falling onto the bed.

In the bathroom, I caught my reflection and wished I hadn't. I looked like I had come out of a horror movie with my bloodshot eyes, the running eyeliner and mascara, and the general misery of the image. I stared at myself in similar fashion to people look at car accidents. -Unable to look away, in spite of the horror.

Under the almost-too-hot stream of water coming from the showerhead, I was yanked down memory lane…

"_Will you marry me?" he asked with hopeful brown eyes._

"_No." I replied without hesitation. I wished he would just stop asking me and leave me alone; it was cutting into my recess time having to tell him no, everyday. _

"_Please?" he persisted._

"_No."_

"_Pretty please?"_

"_No."_

"_Come on."_

"_No. Go away, Seth."_

"_Please, Zoë?" he pleaded._

_Ema tugged on my arm -she was tired of listening to him. I nodded and followed her across the grass, heading for the jungle-gym. Unfortunately, Seth was also following…and still asking for my hand in marriage. Irritated, I spun around to face him. "Okay, fine!" I agreed exasperatedly. "I'll marry you!" _

_Seth beamed. He took my hand and led me away from Ema's surprised face. When we were hidden behind the small shed at the edge of the playground, he took both of my hands. "We have to kiss," he said seriously._

_I reluctantly nodded, knowing that it was part of the process of getting married. My cheeks burned in embarrassment. Why had I agreed to this?_

_He leaned forward, letting his eyes slid shut._

_I stayed put, wanting to get the whole thing done and over with. His lips only touched mine for a fraction of a second; we were both yanked backwards by two teachers. They had us sit on opposite ends of the swing set. "Your parents are on their way," they had told us._

_With a sense of doom, I stared down at the ground. I sniffed, holding back tears._

"_Zoë, I-." Seth was cut off by a teacher._

"_-No talking," she ordered in a military like fashion. _

_The air between us fell quiet; it was strange how the sound of playing classmates seemed to be drowned out by the silence. _

_Mom arrived and I began to cry; shame and humiliation surging forth._

It had been pre-school. After that experience, kissing had been labeled as BAD, and no one was allowed to kiss me. Not even my own parents. The desire to avoid kissing at all costs grew, and I had been a fifth grader when I realized that I was genuinely afraid of the act.

Since then, I had morphed into the Goth-chick, for two very simple and logical reasons.

(1) I liked the style. It was dark and exotic; whispering, "Come near, if you dare." There was an air of mystery around the black clothes; a sense that there was something deeper beneath the surface of makeup and chipping black nail polish.

(2) It kept guys (and most unfortunately, friend-potential girls) away from me. Guys equaled kissing. (Well, okay, a couple girls do too but I've never met one interested in me so I don't really count them).

As a phantom pressure weighed down on my chest, I mildly wondered if my choices in style had been normal, if Andrew would have stayed with me.

--

--

I was on a mission: grab something to munch on. Generally, comfort food held no nutritional value. This fact didn't bother me though, considering I ate comfort food even when I wasn't in need of its charm. Shame on me, I know. -But I wasn't gaining any weight, so I was okay.

"I'll meet you in the checkout-line, okay?" I told my mom, watching her put a loaf of bread in the cart.

"Try to stick with the stuff on sale, Zoë," she said, pushing the cart forward.

"'Kay." And I was off!

The other shoppers paid me no attention, they were in their own little worlds, planning out what to make for dinner or trying to resist the pull of unhealthy foods (best of luck to them; I knew that I didn't have that kind of control). I passed the ice cream, eyeing the different flavors. They would have to wait, unfortunately; frozen foods came last.

I walked by a couple more aisles; none of the stuff on the shelves catching my interest. And then I found the aisle I was looking for. There were assorted flavors of chips, popcorn, cheese puffs, and lots of other temptations.

What to choose?

I saw the last bag of original flavored Fritos, staring at me from the top shelf. Happy to give the chips a good home, I reached up and-!

I was too short to reach them.

Crap. That changed things… I glanced down at my boots. Even with the extra two inches they gave me, I was still too short. I quickly bargained with myself, promising my bones more calcium from milk if they would allow me to reach the top shelf next time (that's what milk chocolate is for, after all). I stepped on the bottom shelf, minding not to step on the goods, and reached up-!

And with a fantastic precision that only I was capable of, I lost my balance and fell on my butt. On instinct, I looked around making sure that no one had seen my epic failure. Once I saw that my reputation would live another day, I hastily got off the wet floor (it had been raining outside) and decided to try again.

My second attempt, consisting of the jumping method, also failed. I needed a new plan.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an odd shape. I turned and heard the Hallelujah Chorus play in my head when my brain fully registered what my eyes were seeing: a stepping ladder.

I hastily dragged it over to where the Fritos were, lest a taller person should come along looking for corn chips packed with sodium, and cautiously got on top of it.

**-Seth-**

I turned the corner, and BAM!

I ran into a girl who was standing on a foot-ladder. Our lips accidentally met, and I almost pulled back out of social-self-preservation to apologize. However, all I could do in that split second was to put my hands on her waist to keep her from falling.

Because everything had changed.

I couldn't say how things were different. There weren't any words to describe this sudden shift, not really. It was just _there_.

Simultaneously her platinum eyes went wide, her body went rigid, and her heart's rhythm skyrocketed -I could hear it. A feeling of worry crept into my moment of awe: would this girl hate me for nearly running her over and then accidentally kissing her? -I mean, if it wasn't for the fact that I was Seth Clearwater (an all-around good guy) the situation could be called seriously creepy and a very shoddy, corny set up.

I should probably step away from her; this girl must be majorly pissed off by now. What if she had been trying to get away for the past two and a half seconds and I was simply too strong to notice??

The girl made a quiet sound; something between a scream and a gasp. Then she suddenly collapsed -her body began to fall.

I quickly caught her, raw fear running through me when I found that she was limp in my arms, unconscious. Was she hurt?? Was she going to be okay?

Oh god, what have I _done_? Forget the groceries, my soul mate needed help!!

I looked down at the unconscious girl, unable to keep my eyes off her for long. Her unnaturally ebony hair was damp and flowed in waves, framing her pale face. Scattered across her nose and cheeks were faint freckles. Her eyes were surrounded with ink-black eye liner and hot pink eye shadow. Her coal colored clothes consisted of boots, loose-fitting jeans (which were held up by a mean looking belt), a shirt that had The Joker on it from the second Batman movie, fishnet arm-warmers, and a trench coat. I shifted so that I was carrying her bridal-style, and looked around.

No one had witnessed the incident.... Oh crap, that meant that I didn't have any witnesses! Somebody might think that I did something awful to her!

Finally a name came through the panicked haze.

Leah.

I should have thought of my big sis earlier; she'd know what to do!

And with that thought in mind, I cut through the employee's back door to the outside where I rushed to my car (it was Leah's too -we had to share, so not cool) and gently set the girl down in the back seat. I rushed to get back in the car and get it started. When I turned the key, the ignition made a nasty, god-awful sound.

Then logic clicked in and I realized that my werewolf-strength was not needed to turn the car on. Easing up on the key, the car started and I drove off -going well past the speed limit- towards my house.

* * *

**A/N: I am aware that Goth is a culture (although I admit that I don't know much). I really hope I haven't offended anyone by using the term. Any stereotypes that I use, I apologize. I may knowingly or unknowingly use them. In Zoë's case, Goth is simply to define her style…since I think that a lot of people can get a general image by the usage of the term. **

**~The italics potion is based on a true story, by the way~**

Dear Masen, why oh why haven't you gotten yourself an account yet?? I can't reply to your kind reviews if you stay anonymous!! Another perk of having an account is that you can send me a message, telling me to update soon. In which, I wouldn't find offensive because if I'm being asked to update, it means that my stories are worth it and that makes my day.

Nevertheless, I wanted to thank you for giving me such an awesome review (no, I haven't been scared off). :] It made me happy and made me determined to take the story off hiatus. I really do appreciate being pushed to write more (and coincidentally, to improve). The compliments were great. Thank you.

**-Kate (Auphora66)**


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